The thick oversized manila envelope that landed on Peaches Ealy’s desk here bore no return address, other than “The Times,” the same place to which it had been delivered.

“You might want to look at something I got,” she said a little later, almost as an afterthought.

“Found these among some papers,” the anonymous mailer wrote in longhand. “Have no idea what they are – not from this area.”

Indeed, the documents inside opened a door into several fascinating chapters in Shreveport’s past, and into the life of a man whose impact on Shreveport and its development has been vast and profound.

Most of the documents inside concerned John Baxter Atkins Sr., a financier, capitalist and philanthropist whose death on Oct. 28, 1923, not only resulted in a front-page news obituary in The Times, but also an editorial lauding his impact on the city.

Mourning the “loss of this loyal son of the city and state,” the editorial noted he “had been richly endowed with business talent and acumen,” but that he “worked for the betterment of the community rather than for personal gain.”

Though he actually only lived in Shreveport the final 14 years of his life, he had long been involved with the life of the city through business activities in the region. He developed the Cedar Grove community, where Atkins Elementary was named in his honor, and left his mark on the city in other ways, notes a great-grandson, Shreveport businessman John E. Atkins.

He recruited Centenary College to come to Shreveport and, with his brother J.W. Atkins donated the 40 acres the college now occupies in Shreveport Highland neighborhood. He also built the first natural gas pipeline from the Caddo Pine Island Field to Shreveport to provide the first gas to light and heat the city. He helped establish the glass industry in Cedar Grove, and also started the Caddo Central Oil refinery, both of which continued to be major industries in west Shreveport for decades.

People researching the family can sometimes get the three or four John Atkinses mixed up.

“The ‘Senior’ and ‘Junior’ designations become confusing because there have been several generations of John B. Atkinses,” emailed Atkins, one of at least two family members with that first name today. “The juniors tended to become seniors as they got older and the younger Johns grew up.”

Like many families with colorful personalities and power, there were tragedies. The first-generation Atkins’ son John B. Atkins Jr., who became chairman of the board of Atlas Processing Co. and who served with distinction in World War I, was one of a dozen city and regional leaders killed in the January 1954 crash of an amphibian airplane returning from a duck hunting trip in south Louisiana. His death, along with that of Justin and Randolph Querbes, R.H. Hargrove, Bernard Weiss and Tom Braniff, among others, affected businesses, land ownership and political currents in Shreveport and across northwest Louisiana parishes and East Texas for decades to follow.

But it all started with the elder Atkins, and the canceled checks, patent notice and Shreveport Rotary Club correspondence in the folder shared these aspects of his rich life. He also headed Liberty Bond drives in Shreveport during World War I, and among the items in the mystery envelope were four receipts for Liberty Bond purchases in New Orleans, which can be viewed with this story online.

The Liberty Bonds are still with us today, in a fashion. To help finance World War I, whose costs soon proved to be more than even the robust and expanding U.S. economy could support, the nation’s leaders devised the concept of borrowing from patriotic citizens, above and beyond taxes that normally would have been levied, as in prior conflicts. The Act of Congress developed as authority for issuing the bonds survives in the form of U.S. Treasury bonds today, and the name of the initial bonds was revived after the Sept. 11, 2001 terror attacks to help rebuild in the aftermath.

The mysterious receipt of this material, as fresh as the day it was put into some forgotten file cabinet by the late John Atkins, makes one wonder what other gems of city history are locked away in footlockers, armoires and hope chests, and when these might be freed to add to the city’s rich history.

John Andrew Prime writes about military matters, history and interesting people for The Times. To expand on a story or suggest a future column, call him at (318) 459-3250 or send email to jprime@gannett.com.